


The Eggspectations of Celebrimbor

by an_evasive_author



Series: EggVerse [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: The days have grown predictable. That is not always a bad thing. It means peace is reigning as sun and moon dance their never ending dance. Day in, day out.On another note, Annatar just laid an egg.So perhaps things have just become a little less routine.





	1. Baked Egg

 

When Celebrimbor looked back to how it all had played out, he supposed he had no one to blame but himself.

He should know better than to be surprised by Annatar's antics by now. And yet the Maia managed to leave him utterly baffled again and again. Alas, such was the fate one got themselves into when treading with Maias and their ilk, he supposed.

The morning had started so deceptively innocent. Well, that and mostly boring. But boring was good. Sometimes. It meant peace had lasted long enough for everyone to stop anticipating the next catastrophe. It meant they could go out without fearing hailstorms of arrows, or other unholy terrors coming for them. He had gotten used to it.

Well, now he knew better than to grow complacent.

 

* * *

  


He had left his bed, and his Maia who had grown rather lazy in the mornings of these last few weeks, and gone off to breakfast like any normal day. Not before kissing Annatar half-awake, of course.

_Of course._

At the same time Annatar had started to lie in longer and waste daylight, he had also started to eat. Celebrimbor had never seen him do so before, safe for trying out different tastes. But only ever for the novelty. Neither for nourishment, nor because of hunger.

But for days now, Annatar had eaten with a very sudden, very large, frankly bordering on concerning, appetite and very little regard just what was appropriate for any given time of day. He wished for smoked salmon in the mornings, oatmeal with fruit for dinner, it did not matter.

And when he had moved on from edibles to the eating utensils, devouring the silver forks as casually as elves would have crunched greens, Celebrimbor had found breakfast with Annatar... interesting.

And, as was Celebrimbor's wont, he had indulged his Maia without ever questioning the intent at first. First of all because he would have done anything for his beloved Annatar, the light of his life. And second because Annatar was prone to long, _long_ sulks if denied his whims.

But the hungers seemed to have settled once again. Just like that.

Still in thought, Celebrimbor made to get to his duties. He could sneak in a few hours of uninterrupted work in the forge, if he played his cards right and avoided to get roped into any more unscheduled meetings.

It had become something of an unspoken trend to hound Celebrimbor on his way to the forge when one wished to bring attention to their _very important_ issues. So he took the servants hallways. This as well had become something of an unspoken habit. Enough that the gaggle of maids coming his way merely curtsied politely before continuing on their way.

 

The forge was, as always bustling with activity. There was always something to do, something to repair. Something to create. Though it had been a while since he had dazzled his elves with something truly new. But with Annatar, he had rather begun improving things they already had.

And with winter in full swing, they needed to get a move on to prepare the farming equipment. New ploughshares and rakes, nails, all things needed for spring and its many tasks. If they wished to have a leg up by the time the first flowers started to bloom, they needed to start now.

He had just donned his smith's apron, bound his black hair safely away from all manners of heat and started on a simple piece to get into the spirit of work. But as it was always the case, a voice called his name.

“Tyelpe, Light of my Life, Star of my World,” Annatar greeted as he walked into the forge. His steps where nearly silent, none of his clothing ruffled. It was something that had, like many things the Maia did, taken time to grow accustomed to. He could make noise when he wished. But that required effort on Annatar's side; Something he was clearly not in the mood or mind to do.

But it wasn't as if his entry had not notified Celebrimbor of his arrival.

Celebrimbor turned from his work, the steel now glowing cherry red and ready to be hammered into shape. But a moment's distraction was most certainly alright. Especially when his visitor was so much more pleasing to the eye than steel.

Annatar looked beautiful as he strode through the workshop. There was no other word to describe him. Curling hair rolling down his shoulders like an ocean of gold, illuminated by the fire of the half dozen glowing forges.

Perhaps there where more words, he was almost certain. But Celebrimbor's mind usually sputtered to a grinding halt at about the same moment that strangely melodic voice reached his ears. That voice that pronounced words just a bit different, tipping syllables strangely and stringing words onto one another like pearls on a string. Like notes to a song.

Celebrimbor's gaze found Annatar, only him. The Maia sash-hayed closer, moving hips in the way that made absolutely certain Celebrimbor had eyes for _nothing_ else.

The smith allowed himself an indulgent stare at his husband. His mind, still lingering on the memories of the previous night as his lips creased into a wide, careless smile. Right up until he noted Annatar holding something.

The object just out of sight intrigued him enough to pull him from his lovesick daze. He could not be sure as to what exactly it was, for Annatar's long sleeves covered the entire lower half and merely a few inches of smooth surface peaked from behind the Maia's crossed arms.

It looked...oval, perhaps? Smooth, at the very least, no jagged edges visible.

Had he painted a stone? It would certainly not have been the strangest thing the Maia had ever done.

Learning elven customs, sometimes on the go when they had forgotten to until mere moments before the royal couple was supposed to step out into the crowd and enact said customary display of leadership and royal protocol _right_ _now_ , usually meant something got lost on translation. Celebrimbor remembered the Maia's confusion when he had tried to explain the tradition of hanging stockings on the fireplace .

Perhaps he had explained it badly, he still blamed it on the wine, for Annatar had promptly burned every stocking in Celebrimbor's drawer, wondering all the while what madness the Elves possessed to make a fire fuelled with socks. But damned be the stars, had it been good wine. And it made for a good story to tell when family gathered. At least the parts of his family he still bothered with.

“Dear? Are you lost in your own head again?” Annatar asked and stepped ever closer. Celebrimbor could smell the Maias scent. Of smoked hickory and cinnamon. Teasing the senses, tickling his nose with its presence.

“Ah, no. Perhaps, maybe. But do not mind me. Tell me, my dear, what do you have there?”

Annatar laughed fondly, stroking the surface of the stone. “It's an egg.”

So it was. Now that he looked at it properly, it seemed quite egg-shaped. But it was _large_. No chicken could have ever laid it. Could any bird have done so? Celebrimbor remembered vaguely tales of travelling dwarven merchants who had told of strange, flightless birds that laid eggs as big as themselves.

Celebrimbor had laughed them off, for surely no Valar could have been as cruel as to make such fat, helpless things as the pictures had shown. He had forgotten what they had been called. But he remembered the round shape. The wings so small, they had been practically non-existent. Would Annatar be cross with him if he brought it up with the Maia now? He would most likely not appreciate the comparison.

Annatar looked at him expectantly, he had most likely stared too long. But he was still puzzling over what kind of egg it was. And there was the fact that it was coloured a faded, dusky red with silvery spots gleaming in the light of the furnaces. He could not completely make out all facets, but it was clear that it was indeed an egg.

Was it a riddle? Sometimes Annatar, who was rather fond of cryptic notes and hidden meanings, gave him those at sunrise. Just to see if Celebrimbor could figure them out before they met again in the evenings. “Where did you get an egg that big?”

Annatar grinned a toothy grin, “Why, I made it.”

Things only escalated from here.

 

* * *

 

It was rare for silence to reign so thoroughly in the entire forge. Normally there would always be something going one that constituted in noise. The other elves seemed to find far more interest in the conversation between their king and the Maia than finishing their work.

Celebrimbor meanwhile, found himself rather light-headed all of a sudden. Perhaps he was still asleep. He was sure he had heard right. And yet he could not have. The sheer outlandishness made it very hard to trust his ears. “You laid an egg?” Celebrimbor asked dumbfounded. He tried again, “ _You_ laid an egg?” Again, “An _egg_?!”

Annatar, still holding the egg, occasionally stroking the smooth surface, nodded. Then, when Celebrimbor had halted his impending nervous breakdown, he smiled. “Yes. And yes. And yes once more. I do wonder, how many different ways you can intonate the same sentence.”

“You _laid_ an egg!”

“And there is another one. You Elves amuse me endlessly.” Annatar laughed, perfectly at ease after delivering these impossible words. “I am sure you can do one more. Bafflement, perhaps? Wonderment? We did not have that one yet.”

“Annatar,” Celebrimbor said and held his head, “Can you take this seriously?”

“Hmm? What?” Annatar asked and turned his head. There, all around them, elves had gathered and listened to the exchange. They scattered once Celebrimbor dismissed them, not without turning and muttering quietly to one another. No doubt the rumour mill would be churning.

“Tyelpe, dear...” Annatar said and Celebrimbor turned his head at the sombre tone. “Did I-” Annatar asked quietly and hugged the egg to his chest, “Did I-- do something wrong?”

Celebrimbor, his mind still spinning, his thoughts still turning, hurried to Annatar's side to hug him awkwardly from the side. The egg was in the way, should he try from the front. “No, no of course not.”

Annatar lowered his gaze and stroked a thumb over the reddish eggshell. Celebrimbor kissed him, “I am just—surprised. I merely... have a few questions...” He untied the apron with long practised ease and hung it over one of the chairs. The steel he had been working on had cooled to a soft, dull yellow.

But there where matters far more important than reheating a piece of metal.

Mainly trying not to pass out. That was very important, he reasoned.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with sublime fan art. https://ttrtru.tumblr.com/post/183822313406/a-fanart-to-anevasiveauthors-fanfic-the


	2. Coddled Egg

 

“How could this even happen?” Celebrimbor asked when they had retired to the privacy of their chambers. Here, Celebrimbor felt, he could be flabbergasted in peace.

 

Lying on their bed, with his arm slung over his face, he contemplated his life and how all of it had lead up to the egg Annatar cradled in his arms.

 

Annatar gave him a patient, condescending smile, Celebrimbor did not need to see it to know it was there. He could _hear_ it. “Well,” Annatar smirked, “When a Maia and an Elf are madly in love with one another, perhaps they had some wine during an absolutely wonderful dinner by candlelight before...”  
  
“I _know_ that!” Celebrimbor called. “I know how in theory you make a child. But,” sitting up, Celebrimbor swallowed, unsure of how to breach the subject, “You are not exactly an elf maiden...”

 

More laughter, “Of course not. I am also not an elf male. So, in light of that, may I continue?” Annatar asked and gently placed the egg on one of the chairs, patting the top of it lovingly.  
  
Lowering himself back onto the mattress, Celebrimbor nodded, “Without the condescension? Please do.”

Annatar, trailing about the room in lazy circles, egg cradled gently and eyes glittering amused, said simply, “Very well. When we had sex, it appears I was ready to receive. And so I did.”

 

“But--” Celebrimbor tried when that seemed to be all in the way of an explanation, “You never told me you could just...do that.”

 

Annatar hummed in thought, then he nodded and shrugged. Rich fabric ruffled, a conscious effort, perhaps meant to set Celebrimbor at ease with its normalcy. “I forgot...”

 

“ _Forgot_?!”

 

“Do not shout at me,” scolded Annatar and pouted his lips in disapproval.

 

Conceding, Celebrimbor lowered both voice and ears, “Sorry. How could you simply forget that this happens?”

 

“Dear. I told you once, that I am, amongst my kindred, still rather young compared to others,” When Celebrimbor made to open his mouth, he raised his hand “Of age, of age, yes I know, we went over that. The crux of the matter is, I simply have not often been in the situation that I just _know_ what happens to me. And we do not get ready to conceive very frequently, nor do we bring new little Maia into the world all that much for that matter.”  
  
“I had no idea...”

 

Annatar, golden eyes gleaming as bright as his smile, chuckled, “In any case; No one can claim I am unsuited as your consort any longer. What with your eggy little future heir sitting there so proudly.”

 

The egg gave, unsurprisingly, no response.

 

Celebrimbor opened his mouth to speak, to reassure perhaps. Annatar tended to be-- rather _unappreciative_ of those who questioned his suitableness to the role of king consort. He did not get far in getting the first words out.

 

In a fit of energy, Annatar snatched the egg up, “I do not regret it one bit! None of it!” Annatar thrilled and twirled around in a cloud of silk, the egg pressed to his chest. “Be they prince or pauper, all that is important that it is ours! Yours and mine, Tyelpe dear!”

 

Celebrimbor, startled at both the sudden elation and the way the egg was whirling in Annatar's pirouetting form, cried out “Don't swing it around like that! You're gonna scramble it!”

 

“Shush. I know what I'm doing,” Annatar said but halted his momentum and pranced over to the bed.“My dear, there is no need to worry. Come, hold it and see for yourself.”

 

When Celebrimbor hesitated, Annatar sighed and clucked his tongue at his hesitation. “Silly elf, it won't break so easily.”  
  
“I know, it is just...”  
  
Annatar rolled his eyes, “I washed it after I was done, you know.”

 

“That's not what I--” Celebrimbor said and blushed fiercely. Annatar shook his head, rolled over and grabbed Celebrimbor's sleeve to pull him onto the mattress.

 

“So take it then, you silly elf. Greet your egg.” Annatar said and handed the egg over. It landed in Celebrimbor's lap like a large watermelon. But it was warm to the touch. Very warm, actually. Not unlike the hot stones the servants in the baths would put on his tired muscles after a long day.

 

Celebrimbor took it, feeling the weight of it, the satin shell teasing his fingers, “I thought it was _your_ egg.”  
  
Annatar laughed, “Well, you helped. Though I _did_ do most of the work.”

  
“Was it painful? You are not hurt, are you?” Celebrimbor could only imagine what it had to feel like to lay an egg. Such a monstrously large one, too.  
  
Annatar, folding his arms gracefully beneath his chin, hummed, “I did not even blink. I am not quite so delicate as your elf-maidens are.”

 

Though when Celebrimbor remembered just how horrified Annatar had looked when Celebrimbor had told him _exactly_ how elves gave birth, the words rang rather hollow. Thoughtful, “It was not comfortable, if that is what you mean.”

 

Seeing Celebrimbor trace the splotched patterns on the egg, Annatar smiled softly, fondly, “A masterpiece, wouldn't you say? I am quite proud.”

 

Celebrimbor, with the critical eye of an artist, noted the tiny flecks of sparkling glint, like tiny silver spots. Otherwise the shell was a washed out orange, nearly sheer if not held in the right light. But as he held it higher and it caught the flames, it seemed to light up with all manners of red and orange hues. “How did you manage to make it glitter like this?”  
  
Annatar rolled over, “Hmm? Oh, that comes from the forks I ate. I had the most terrible cravings, I tell you.”

 

“Huh...Well that explains-- _some_ things at least.” Celebrimbor allowed his hand to wander over the body next to him. He felt the warmth, the firmness of Annatar's subtle curves and the soft silkiness of his hair as his fingers toyed with the gold wealth spilling over his back. The Maia purred at the touch and leaned into kneading fingers like a cat.

 

There where, of course, still rather pressing questions. Still rubbing Annatar's back, he furrowed his brow, “Do we need to keep it warm? Does one of us need to sit on it?” He already imagined himself brooding on an egg like a mother hen. Would he crush it when he sat on it? How _did_ one nest on one of these things? They had a very... unfortunate shape when it came to sitting on it, he supposed. Why, he would slide right off. Was the throne even the right shape? He supposed he could carve out a concavity...

 

“Mmm, “Annatar hummed and searched for something, riffling through his night stand. Though he looked over his shoulder when the hand stopped lavishing him. Celebrimbor watched him throw a long strip of cloth onto the bed and descend back into his search. Finally, he rolled over, with a jar of polish usually meant to bring weapons to a gleaming finish.

 

The egg was warm in Celebrimbor's hands. A tiny- minuscule even- life was inside of it, feeding of the yolk and dreaming in its shell. And Celebrimbor had partially made it happen. How strange to think such a thing.

 

Annatar gently took the egg back and began to polish it. “No, it needs to be held warm, certainly, but we can have it in the fireplace for a few hours each day and that will be enough. It will largely take care of itself for this part.”  
  
“The fireplace?!” Celebrimbor asked, eyes swivelling towards the roaring flames. How foreboding they looked. Somehow the thought of throwing his child into the blaze was not at all helping him calm.

 

“I am a disciple of Aulë, my dear. Fire is my blood and fire will be in this one's veins. But until then it needs a little help.”

 

Celebrimbor lowered his ears, “Still...” He could almost imagine the smell of fried eggs...

 

“Oh hush, instead, I do believe I deserve some praise for making this piece of art,” Annatar said and showed the gleaming egg, now polished to utter perfection.

 

He was rewarded with a long kiss, with a calloused hand trailing gently along his deceptively delicate face.

 

Annatar's egg; Their egg, if Celebrimbor was being honest, sat peacefully between them, glimmering silver and red.

 

 


	3. Fried Egg

 

It turned out that the egg truly was rather low maintenance. If Annatar was to be believed, and Celebrimbor had no intention of doing otherwise, that would change the moment the actual occupant would break through their egg shell. But for now he had very little to worry about; Safe for making sure the egg was getting enough time in the fireplace and keeping the servants from panicking when they saw the future heir thrown into the fire like a common breakfast egg.

By now the chambermaids largely relented and had stopped trying to sic the guard on their obviously gone mad king.

 

It was good that the egg needed so little attention. Because Annatar took up most of it. Not all of it, of course, Celebrimbor still had a kingdom to govern.

 

But the important thing in recent times was his family. The Maia and the egg. Mostly the Maia. He wondered if that would change once the child was born. He did not see why not; If the way his husband lavished the egg with all manners of gentle coos and long sessions of polishing the shell after a long day. Annatar took very special care to that.

 

Speaking of which...

 

A long, lily-white leg shot from under the robe Annatar donned and kicked his book away. It sailed past mattress and carved bed frame, fell to the ground with the sound of many pages being creased on impact and the distant promise of the head librarian twisting his ear off. Celebrimbor turned his head, startled, only to see said leg teasingly retreating back under the fabric until only a strip of skin peaked out underneath.

 

“Enough reading,” Annatar commanded.

 

Celebrimbor turned his head to scold him, yet found he could not. How pretty Annatar had made himself look, Celebrimbor thought and shifted his legs to quell the sudden and very demanding tingling. It was not an easy feat. Annatar, after all, knew just how he had to position himself in that leisured pose, hair swept slightly over one eye.

 

And when Annatar allowed his hand to, of course purely coincidentally wander over his hip, fingers trailing behind playfully, inviting...

 

It would have been very easy to follow the part of his brain that was by now paying very close attention to the way Annatar smoothed a lock of wayward gold behind his ear.

 

For a moment, Celebrimbor contemplated teasing Annatar further by continuing his reading; There was still a pile of books next to him. When he had stormed the library and its head librarian with incoherent questions and sentences and jittery nerves, the poor elleth had gathered what she thought appropriate.

 

He supposed sometimes it was easier to simply comply to the best of your abilities when your king asked for literature on eggs. After all, the first few years of living with Annatar had been largely comprised of doing just that. And it all had worked out wonderfully. Most of the time.

 

He had disregarded the cookbook centred around egg dishes. And until Annatar had so elegantly taken it from him, he had been reading ' _Is My Child Still Breathing? The Guide For First-Time Parents_ '

 

That left the _Common Guide For Songbirds_ still untouched, as well as a book on proper care for water fowl.

 

The egg sat near the fireplace, with a very large, knitted egg warmer decorating it like a hat. A very fetching hat; The blue wool complemented the red of the shell quite nicely. Celebrimbor was, though the knowledge of it was not very well known, a very passionate knitter. It helped keeping the fingers nimble and his mind was allowed to freely wander while he made thousands of intricate little woollen loops.

 

Annatar had other plans and was by now ready to bring out his rather unfair secret weapon. He wilted into the pillow, the back of his hand resting above his brow, “Oh, Tyelpe. Will you truly let me wither like this, all alone and cold?”

 

“It is the middle of spring, my dear,” Celebrimbor grinned but came closer regardless until their lips nearly touched, had Annatar not pulled back at the very last moment to keep the game going just a little longer.

 

The Maia whined and allowed the sleeve of his robe to slide off his shoulder to expose ever more skin. Celebrimbor swallowed dryly but grinned when Annatar turned his head back to regard him with a smouldering look in his golden eyes. “How cruel you are.”

 

“Who, me?” Celebrimbor asked and kissed Annatar who gave a thrilling sound as his answer. Lowering his Maia until he rested on the pillows, Celebrimbor kissed his nose playfully, Annatar batting lightly at him in reply while he chuckled under his breath.

 

Celebrimbor made to pull his tunic over his arm when his arm brushed against something warm on the way up. Not quite startled, he turned his gaze.

 

The egg sat there, still where Annatar had gently nestled it into a pile of blankets and pillows. Like a tiny throne. Also wholly inappropriate a position considering what Celebrimbor wished to do to Annatar.

 

“ _Um_...”

 

Annatar stopped his mock-despair that had started when Celebrimbor had paused in undressing himself and the elf was once more the centre of the Maia's absolute attention. “Tyelpe, dear, is everything alright?” A hand joined the words, caressed his cheek as golden eyes searched for the reason their little game had so abruptly halted.

 

Celebrimbor, cheeks lightly blushed and ears slightly splayed downwards, nodded towards their egg. “I—Should we not perhaps bring the egg outside?”

 

The look Annatar gave him was one concerned parents whose children had spent a little too much time under sun shared, “Are you being serious?”

 

“I can't when it is here, watching us.” Celebrimbor said and thought it not unreasonable. He did not like being watched. He was sometimes in the mood of taking the risk to potentially get walked in on. But the thrill came from the fact that he dearly did not want that. Not even by an egg.

 

Annatar groaned, very much not in that sensual way that made Celebrimbor's back tingle. “It is an _egg_. It has neither ears nor eyes and at this stage the child is barely more than _yolk_ inside a calcified shell. It will not mind if you go down on me, I assure you.”

 

But Celebrimbor remained steadfast and shook his head “Annatar, I cannot. Not with the egg. We shouldn't make it a habit...”

 

Annatar huffed but he weaselled himself out from under Celebrimbor who had still been looming over him. “ _Fine_. Fine, I will bring them outside, you make sure everything is as I like it when I come back, you hear?”

 

Celebrimbor smiled sheepishly when he heard Annatar mutter to himself, brushing past the stack of books. The one on the top was swept up when Annatar made his way through the door and it tumbled off, opened to a random page.

 

Celebrimbor made to gather it up, checking the spine and subsequent pages for creases when he saw the picture it had landed on. A chicken and a rooster where depicted, coloured with ink that made the plumage look very nearly real. Marans, they where called it seemed.

 

What caught Celebrimbor's attention, however, where the eggs on the other side. Coloured with rich ink, looking almost like the shell had been painted, where red eggs in a nest. Celebrimbor chuckled and made a mental note to show it to Annatar later.

 

His prideful hen, Annatar would certainly be thrilled to be compared to a chicken. He just knew it. After all, it was Annatar who clucked so motherly over his egg.

 

With this thought making him smirk, Celebrimbor made to fetch the candles.

 

 

 


	4. Boiled Egg

 

Unkind people, though never to his face, would call their king a bit of a prude. For one, he hardly ever joined them in the public bath.

 

The public baths where a wonderful place to gather, to talk and to relax. Also wonderful when it came to catch their king off-guard and unable to make a hasty retreat. At the very least his guards would not quite so easily be able to shove those approaching out of the way, for armour was quite impractical when it came to steamy baths and scented water.

 

Celebrimbor did not mind these rumours for many reasons. The greatest and most important one was that he comforted himself with the profound knowledge that, if they knew what he and Annatar did in the privacy of their chamber and the semi-privacy of an empty throne room, would leave all of them to very quickly change their tune.

 

Yet all of that did not change the fact that Celebrimbor very much favoured their private bathing chamber over the public bath. He had nothing against the public bath; There where certainly benefits to it. Meetings could be conducted there, especially the grating ones that would leave him in need of a long soak followed by an even longer massage. Preferably at that point hot stones would get involved.

 

There was also the cold water pool, kept at nearly freezing temperatures through both engineering masterwork and elven magic. It was incredibly popular among the elves who spent most of their times in the forge among furnaces and temperatures high enough to singe eyebrows. The younger, more adventurous elves as well where fond of the _Frigidarium_ as it was called. Though for different reasons. Mainly for the dares.

 

Annatar was not well-liked in the cold bath. His own energies would be enough to heat the iciest of water, however unintentional.

 

But you could do such wonderful things in the privacy of a secluded hot bath. Even though summer was now in full swing, neither Celebrimbor nor Annatar minded the scalding temperatures. Both had, after all, very high tolerances to all manners of fire, heat and ardour. He loved baths, scented with fragrant, flowery soaps.

 

He had just never thought about floating eggs in it.

 

Annatar however seemed fully at ease watching their egg bobble around the large pool, occasionally giving it a gentle, playful prod so it would draw wide, lazy circles in the water.

 

“You know,” Celebrimbor said as he watched his husband and his egg play in the water, “There is a test to determine the freshness of an egg?”  
  
“Oh?” Annatar asked and hummed a low purr of satisfaction at the pleasant heat. Water droplets decorated his skin, his hair, making him look as if he was covered in tiny gems which sparkled in the low light. Steam rolled around him like a thin curtain, as if wrapping him in the most delicate of silks, “I had no idea,” Annatar said and serenely chased behind his egg. Celebrimbor was not quite sure he had ever thought of a chase as serene, but Annatar made clashing concepts fit together as if they had always meant to be this way. “And what would this test be, my darling?”

 

Celebrimbor, one arm resting on the edge of the bath, the other floating relaxed in the water, caught the egg that had been steadily floating closer and pressed it to his chest. “It is rather simple,” Celebrimbor said, “One simply covers the egg with water and sees if it floats...And if it does it is no longer good to eat.” He finished, grinning at Annatar's incredulous look.

 

Annatar harrumphed and came closer until he could snatch the egg from Celebrimbor, “Hmph. As well as it should. No one will eat this wonderful darling.” To the egg, he cooed and nuzzled it, “Fit for consumption, oh my dear, it seems your father has lost his mind.”

 

“And I had hoped it would take some more years until your brain turned soft, Tyelpe my dear.”  
  
That made Celebrimbor pause his teasing smirk, “Now now, no need to become hurtful, Annatar. I never said I wanted to eat _our_ egg.”

 

“It was _implied_ ,” Annatar said accusingly and kissed the top of the egg without breaking eye-contact with Celebrimbor.  
  
“I was just saying.”  
  
“It's those books again, isn't it? If you dare liken me to a chicken one more time, I swear you will sleep on the couch until it turns to dust.” said Annatar and gently lowered the egg back into the water.

 

With ears pinned back, Celebrimbor tried to defend himself,“You can hardly blame me for trying to be prepared.”  
  
“Prepared for _what_?” Annatar asked, “Me turning into fowl?”

 

“How will the child get out of the egg?”  
  
“Huh?” asked Annatar, clearly blind-sided by the question. Celebrimbor did not feel the satisfaction he felt appropriate at catching so off-guard. Instead he merely asked what had been on his mind for the last few days.  
  
“The shell. How will our child break through the shell? They do not have an egg tooth, do they?” Celebrimbor asked. “Does it need help when the time comes? I--” Somehow the water did not feel quite as relaxing anymore and Celebrimbor fumbled for the egg. It was still warm to the touch, reassuring him with its presence. “Will we know when it is time? What if we are too late? What if we do not hear them—Why are you _laughing_?”

 

Indeed Annatar had broken into roaring laughter around the last question, enough to make him shake where he stood. Finally his knees simply gave up and he sat in the shallows of the pool. Celebrimbor watched him with ears pressed back, lips pursed into an unhappy frown. “Oh, my dear. My darling, _darling_ dear.” Annatar wheezed and wiped away a tear once he could take again. “Is that why you have been reading all these silly books?”  
  
Feeling defensive, Celebrimbor gave a rare snort, “I would hardly call them silly. I learned quite a lot from them.”  
  
“Mostly how to identify birds by their call, yes. I gathered as much.” Annatar said when he had calmed once more, though his lips where still creased into a smile which the Maia tried to smooth out into a serious expression, failing when they sprung back into an amused grin. “Oh, Tyelpe. If you had said something sooner... I would have been able to set your mind at ease. My silly elf.”  
  
Annatar continued after he had kissed a pensive Celebrimbor, “We do not have beaks, you are correct. I think you would have noticed that. Neither do we have an egg tooth nor other appendages meant for cracking egg shells and nothing else.”

 

“Then how--?”  
  
Annatar thrilled, “Why, we use our heads!”  
  
“...huh?”  
  
Nodding, the Maia continued, “Oh yes. Our heads are quite hard. Harder, to be exact, than diamond. And so, when the time comes and our little one wishes to see the world, they will take a bite of onset and make their way out themself.”

 

When Celebrimbor remained silent, simply looking into nothing for a few moments as new knowledge had presented itself, Annatar giggled. “Well, has that done anything to quell your fears?” he asked and kissed Celebrimbor's brow.

 

Celebrimbor sighed, turned his head and smiled wearily, “It would explain,” he said and looked peacefully to the Maia who sat next to him, “Why you are so thick-headed, at least.”  
  
“ _Tyelpe!_ ” Annatar called and the words where punctuated with a loud splash as the two elves tumbled through the water like playful nymphs. It could have been the waves the two made, or perhaps it was not; The egg twitched slightly and came to a rest once more. Neither Maia nor Elf noticed.

 

When they both surfaced again, drenched and mussed, laughing lively, Celebrimbor kissed his Maia and weaved his hand through the golden hair.

 

“For the future, Tyelpe dear,” Annatar said when they rested their foreheads against one another's, golden eye peering into grey, “Tell me when you have worries. Instead of working yourself up so terribly for nothing.”  
  
Celebrimbor smiled gently. Something brushed against his arm and he turned. Their egg had seemingly finished its laps around the pool and was now bobbing against the elf. He laughed and scooped it up, bringing it safely between Annatar and himself. “It scares me,” Celebrimbor confessed as they held hands over the egg, “How little I know. How incompetent I must look.”  
  
Annatar mouthed along the edge of Celebrimbor's jaw, “My dear. It was never about the competence. I love you for the fact that one day long ago I wandered into your kingdom and you simply accepted me for all that I am. That not too long ago I came to your forge and presented you with this beautiful egg, our child, and you went along with it without ever questioning it.”

 

“Very well.” Celebrimbor laughed and kissed Annatar wherever he could reach with the egg still pressed between them. Their hands, decorated with a golden ring each, woven together. The egg sat peacefully between them.

 

 


	5. Omelette

 Like so many beautiful things in Arda, it began with a very quiet noise, easily missed. In this instance, in the dead of the night, it was a tiny, muffled--

 

_Chirp_

 

With ears listening to every sound, readied to rip their owner from slumber for the slightest possibility that _hatching_ had started, it was no wonder that Celebrimbor nearly catapulted himself from the bed to see for their egg at the sound. The blanket was kicked aside for he had an awful habit of tangling himself in it when the night was long enough. Tripping over himself would cost precious time he _did not have_.

 

Annatar, who liked to be the big spoon and possessively hold onto his elf as he slept and purred quietly to himself, was roughly jostled around, got an accidental elbow to the stomach for his troubles and made his displeasure known with a surprised whine. “ _Tyelpe_! What do you think you are doing?”

 

“Hush dear,” Celebrimbor shushed him from where he sat in front of the egg.

 

“Do not hush me!”

 

Celebrimbor waved him off, “Hush, let me hear.”  
  
Annatar scoffed and made his own way over to the cradle where the egg rested like it always did at this time of night, on its stitched pillow. Unmoved, untouched. “What is it?”  
  
Celebrimbor pressed his ear to the shell and listened intently, “I could have sworn...”  


_Chirp_

 

“There! Hear?” Trembling in both nerves and hands, Celebrimbor gently caressed the egg as if checking for imperfections.  
  
Annatar hummed and stepped close, his arms resting at the edge of the pillow. He smiled fondly, all of his anger at being thrown around forgotten. “Ahh, it must be getting rather close. No wonder, the little dear has made us wait long enough for a sign by now I should think.”  
  
“Will it hatch? Right now? Should I get anything?”  
  
Annatar shook his head and gently pulled an already half-risen Celebrimbor back on his knees. “Not yet. But it cannot be too long now. Another season perhaps.” Annatar said and looked proudly at his beloved egg. Then, quietly, he whistled. A very melodic note rang through the room. And then, even quieter, the egg replied with the same note.

“Not long now...” Annatar sighed fondly, longing. “Oh, if only it was already time.”

“I have been wondering,” Celebrimbor said, as he had promised to share his worries. Annatar turned, head resting on the pillow, one arm looped around the egg, the other searching for Celebrimbor. “What date will we use to celebrate him? Is it a Begetting Day like we elves use?”  
  
Annatar hummed, “I—that...I had not thought about it. We do not celebrate like you do. There is only the Celebration of Awaiting.”  
  
At Celebrimbor's confused look, Annatar smiled, “It is a time, just after the egg has been laid. Where all of the Maia, even the Valar themselves come together and celebrate a new soul created. Oh my dear, what a shame it is that you have never witnessed one. There is song and dance and celebrating for months.”

“Months?”  
  
The Maia nodded, “Until the child hatches. I fear we will not be able to do so here. I do not think the kingdom could take a year of debauched, drunken feasting.”  
  
“Not that they would not try, let's be honest,” Celebrimbor said and felt Annatar giggle against him.

 

“I love them for it, you know. This joy for life. Maia are not known for spontaneity like I have come to learn of you elves. It is... rather hard for most of us to simply do something without having been told.”  
  
Celebrimbor kissed Annatar between the ears when the Maia turned his head to look at the egg.“I would never have been able to tell.”

 

“Rogue,” Annatar chastised lightly and kissed Celebrimbor back. They remained quiet like this for a while. “There will be changes now, you know?”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Well, as our little one will now be awake for portions of the day, it is important that we talk to them. And, even more importantly; They need a set bedtime and will take a nap or three throughout the day. So they may not be disturbed. I cannot continue to haul them around everywhere, as much as I enjoy it.”  
  
“How will we do that then? Both of us have responsibilities.” Celebrimbor asked and remembered his panicked idea of carving up the throne into a nest. The throne room was truly no place for a child. Or egg.  
  
Annatar sighed at that, “My dear, I am afraid it is time for a nurse.”

 

* * *

 

 

One of the side effects of the now very chirpy egg was the newfound attention, something Annatar did not mind, of course.

 

A gaggle of maidens had surrounded the Maia, with Celebrimbor off to the side, going through applications.

 

Annatar, at the centre of the group, sitting on a sofa, turned his head while the elves made the egg chirp in reply to their words. “My dear, do not be so austere, you can meet these lovely ladies now and judge them later when we are alone; You are being rude.”

 

When Celebrimbor did not even look up, instead merely continuing to mutter over papers, Annatar sighed and turned to the elleths. “Ladies, keep an eye on this for me, will you?” He sounded casual but oh it took _everything_ Annatar had to not simply snatch their lovely egg up and run. He could not. Instead he made his way over to the desk and half-sat on the smooth oak surface. Only then did Celebrimbor manage to force his eyes away and meet Annatar's.

  
“Dear, we have to assemble a staff for our child as soon as possible,” Celebrimbor said and sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. An ink stain on his hand, between thumb and index finger got smeared as it was dragged through the dark tresses. Celebrimbor did not notice. Annatar very much did and snickered at the sight.

 

Celebrimbor went over his list once more, “We need guards, a nurse, what else?”  
  
“Is that not enough for now? It is still an egg.”  
  
“It will not stay an egg forever.” In fact the day of _Hatching_ crept ever closer, unstoppable. Celebrimbor was both elated and felt ready to run for the hills. The guide books had done very little to make him feel prepared. It had, if anything, given him all new ideas over what to worry about.

 

The egg chirped, a squeaky whistling noise that rose at the very end like a question. Celebrimbor sighed again. “Very well. A nurse, “Under his breath, “ _at the very least_... Two guards. I will have a talk with the captain tomorrow to hear his recommendations.”

 

“A wonderful idea, my dear.” Annatar agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

It was deep into the night that both elf and Maia allowed themselves to sink into the pillows of their bed. Both where worn from a long day and all matters of state where now left whimpering for attention behind the closed door of the bedroom. Only the worst of emergencies would be enough to open them before morning.

 

“I will do the guard overseeing tomorrow. You do the interviews for the nurse position,” Celebrimbor said and with that the matter was closed for the night.

 

Annatar lay sprawled on his back, his robes discarded and now only clothed in soft leggins and a sheer tunic, the plainest things Celebrimbor had seen him wear in a while. The Maia muttered under his breath while he polished the egg. “Look at all these _fingermarks_ ,” Annatar growled. “My poor dear.”

 

Celebrimbor made soothing noises and took a sip from his cup. Red wine tasted exceptinonally well after a seemingly endless day. Then, when his hands where free again, he began braiding Annatar's hair to appease the ruffled Maia. When this brought only mediocre results, Celebrimbor reached out to rub the tip of Annatar's ear between calloused fingers and thumb.

 

That did the trick and Annatar sighed blissfully before rolling over, the egg placed safely on his stomach. It wiggled once, back and forth, before settling. As if the tiny occupant had nestled in for sleep. Peeping came from deep inside the shell, muffled.

 

Celebrimbor smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the very top of the splotched egg.

 

For a moment, there was only peaceful silence inside the bedchamber. Then, suddenly, the egg trembled and there was another short squeak. Then another. And another.

 

Annatar raised his head to regard the egg with a quirked eyebrow. Celebrimbor pressed his ears back, clearly alarmed. “What is happening?”  
  
“My dear,” Annatar smiled soothingly and grasped Celebrimbor's hand. “There will be no sleep tonight, I fear.” Celebrimbor's gaze wandered nervously to the egg.

 

“Why?”  
  
When the egg shook again, Annatar laughed, “It appears our egg has the hiccups.”

 


	6. Scrambled Egg

 

How had an egg overtaken most of Celebrimbor's waking thoughts? It would only be a matter of time until he dreamed of his eggy child too, he just knew it. The question now was would he really mind anymore? He had realised something in these chaotic months. He loved this egg. He loved this strange, precious gift Annatar had given him. He loved him for that. He loved this egg and whatever potential would decide to hatch from it. What would they become? Smiths? Artisans? Perhaps a poet or a writer. Whatever it was, the potential was endless and Celebrimbor found himself rather giddy at the thought of finally meeting his child.

 

What would they be? A boy? A girl? Something closer to Annatar? Or perhaps they would be--

 

“Scrambled or boiled?”

 

It turned out that Celebrimbor had chosen a rather poor moment to sip from his tea. The servant who had dutifully taken the orders for breakfast, was rewarded with the sight of his king spitting tea like a fountain at the words.

 

Annatar sighed, handed the still sputtering, coughing Celebrimbor a napkin and turned to the servant. “No eggs for him today. He will have toasted bread. Apricot marmalade,” the Maia looked at his husband's now empty cup, “And more tea.”

 

When the flustered servant had retreated, Annatar turned to Celebrimbor who had largely composed himself, self for the ashamed flush covering both cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Well,” Annatar said and raised a curious eyebrow as he wiped the mess away. “Would His Majesty mind telling me why he decided to water the table?”

 

“I—I was in thought...” Celebrimbor gasped after he had caught his breath once again.  


“Indubitably. May I make an educated guess as to why?” Annatar asked and sipped from his own tea. It made Celebrimbor feel far less awkward when he did that; In the very beginning Annatar would simply stare at him until the elf had finished his meal. “You have been _awfully_ skittish these last few weeks. Is it the new staff? I thought you liked Teliadis, she seems a rather nice girl. Perhaps a little more talkative than I would have expected, but it is not as if the child will mind--”  
  
“I wish this to be _over_.” Celebrimbor complained and sighed. He did that a lot these days. Like a forlorn maiden. “I wish to greet my child already. I want to meet them. Instead I have this ball of calcium mocking me by separating us.”

 

“I cannot speed the process any more than I can move the sun, dear. You will have to exert patience.” Annatar sipped from his tea, “Which reminds me; During his nap, we will need to oversee the preparations for Vernal. It will take your mind off things.”

 

Celebrimbor sighed and rested his head on his hand until the servant arrived with breakfast.

 

* * *

 

The side where the Spring Equinox would be celebrated was already in the midst of being decorated. With only a few days remaining, there where only a few more things to take care of. Benches and tabled had been dragged to their places, the dance floor was being prepared and pressed flat. Grass was cut already, flower garlands would soon hang from from every branch around the clearing.

 

The most important part was of course the Passage Mount, a large hill where Arien would be seen wandering across the sky in a feat of precision engineering. Hundreds of elves could gather below the stone roof. More could celebrate outside; Which they would, there was no doubt. Many under the influence of more than one drink, but such was the spirit of any good feast. And a feast it would be.

 

Annatar, uninterested in food and immune to the influence of alcohol, the Maia had different reasons to enjoy the celebration. He loved coming out to the venue, although not for the reasons most others did. The tunnels of roughly hewn stone bored him with their plainness. It was not why Annatar loved the clearing so dearly. No, that was because of the lake mansion not far from the side of the festival.

 

“Oh, Tyelpe!” cried Annatar dramatically as he threw open the doors to the long-house. It was hewn from grey granite and stuck out from the greenery all around it. Yet the insides where homely and warm, with pelts and trophies from all manners of past hunts. “How wonderful to get out of these dreary walls and have a change of scenery.”

“I like the dreary walls of home,” Celebrimbor muttered and unhitched the leather harness where he had strapped the egg to his chest. He lowered it gently on the fur-covered bed. Annatar thrilled a melodic hum as he waltzed through the room.

“Liar. I saw you pacing around the living room.”

“That was because of the egg...”  
  
“Shush. Do not use our child as an excuse,” Annatar scolded mildly and looked out of the window. The lake sparkled tantalizingly, the mooring waiting with a row boat for them seemed to invite them. “Oh, surely you will take me onto the lake tonight?” He giggled “And take me on the lake, as well?”

 

Celebrimbor stepped next to the Maia and wrapped his arm around his waist, “And what about our egg? Shall we leave it all alone here?”

 

“Why do you think we hired Teliadis, hm?” Annatar asked and nuzzled Celebrimbor under the chin.

 

“To give her something to ramble at?”

 

“How unkind!”

 

“Ah, but is it untrue?” Celebrimbor asked.

 

Annatar pouted. It did not keep long and his frown melted into an impish smile, “Hush."

 

* * *

 

When the last of the preparations had been overseen and only the celebration itself held them in the long-house, night was almost upon them.

 

The egg had settled for the evening, the constant peeping chirps had faded to stillness and the now constant shaking had calmed. They placed it in its crib which they had brought with them, tucked it in and sung to it until both felt satisfied that the child inside was hushed for the night.

 

Teliadis and the guards chosen especially with the protection of the egg where posted and both Maia and Elf made their way to the mooring, fingers entwined like courting youths.

 

Celebrimbor rowed them unto the still surface of the lake while Annatar watched him hungrily.

 

“It has been so long.” Annatar sighed as he watched Celebrimbor's arms flex and relax in time with every splash of the paddles.

 

“It has been two days,” Celebrimbor grinned.

 

The Maia sighed, “That's what I'm saying. So much wasted time.”

 

Celebrimbor chuckled to himself and, satisfied with the distance they had made, hiked the paddles up so they would not get lost. He cracked his neck and stretched and this seemed to be enough for Annatar to pounce on him, clearly not willing to wait anymore. The boat wobbled precariously but did not tip over.

 

* * *

 

 

“What is it?” Annatar asked when they lay together under moonlight. The crisp air of early spring did not affect them and indeed they where both warm from the previous activities. Clothing lay strewn around, Celebrimbor's leggings hung from the side of the boat, dipping into the water up their knees.

 

Neither cared. Celebrimbor nuzzled into Annatar's hair and sighed. “I think I can wait a little longer.”

 

“For what, my dear?” Annatar asked and enjoyed the sight of Celebrimbor's features bathed in moonlight.”

 

“Hatching. I will simply have to be patient.”

 

Annatar smiled, raised his head to meet Celebrimbor's lips and asked, once he drew back, “Are you lying to me?”

 

Celebrimbor nodded, “ _Yes_...”


	7. Poached Egg

 

“Oh my precious dear,” Annatar crooned in utter delight and twirled around the room, the egg in his arms. He was _just_ enough out of the way for the groomers not to throw him out on a technicality.

 

Celebrimbor, swarmed with servants dressing him for the festival, had given up trying to herd his husband in. “Your first Vernal!” Annatar called and pressed his cheek against the egg. “Oh how exciting.” The egg squeaked as if in agreement.

 

The groomers where not interested in the Maia who looked as prim and pristine as Celebrimbor after hours of preparation still did not. Instead they descended on their king with even greater vigour, having to only dress one king. 

 

“Would it not be their second one?” Celebrimbor asked and watched Annatar through the mirrors in front of him. A brush was run through his hair and he flicked his ear at the sensation.

 

“Hmm,” Annatar hummed and laughed, “I do not think they where quite able to be very interested in fireworks and poetry.”

 

Celebrimbor, who was sprayed with a fragrant perfume, grinned to himself, “Are we talking about you or the child?”

 

Indignant, “What insolence!”

 

Celebrimbor did not offer an answer and merely smiled serenely. Annatar huffed and harrumphed.

 

* * *

 

 

The egg peeped quietly to itself as the last rays of Arien dipped below the horizon, shrouding the Passing Mount and the surrounding side in night. Lanterns and torched where ignited, the musicians who had so far kept in the background to provide quiet ambience to the ceremony, now primed their instruments for livelier music.

 

“My dear,” Annatar soothed the egg and stroked the surface, “Your father and I shall be gone for a little while to have a dance. Be nice while we are away.” Luckily, the egg was  unlikely to cause a ruckus; So well behaved.

 

Teliadis received the egg just in time for Celebrimbor to lead his husband onto the dancefloor to have the first dance of the night.

 

Perhaps things escalated and they had a few more rounds than anticipated. Annatar laughed merrily when Celebrimbor allowed himself to fall onto a bench and gulp down a cup of wine which a servant handed him. “My dear, what an excellent dancer you are.” Annatar said after he had hunted down his egg and send the rest of the servants off to celebrate.

 

“Mhmm...” Celebrimbor chuckled, “As long as you lead...” The egg squeaked and rummaged in Annatar's grasp.

 

Smiling mischievously, Annatar beheld the festivities before he turned around to his frazzled husband. Celebrimbor leaned on the edge of the table, arms slung over the top and legs stretched lazily out. He looked very much unlike a king now and Annatar found him quite roguish.

 

“This one is quite lively tonight. My dear, it seems we should have another dance.”

 

Celebrimbor looked around where elves where dancing, drinking and frolicking, “Teliadis is gone already.” Doubtlessly with the other servants to get plastered. Annatar had donated an entire keg of apple cider to celebrate Vernal with. Well, that or a free day away from the royal couple; Who could tell, really?

“Then all three of us have to dance it seems,” Annatar grinned and pulled Celebrimbor behind him, holding the egg in his other arm.

 

Manouvering to hold the egg safely between them as they moved to the music proofed to be challenging but ultimately had Elf and Maia holding one hand each under the egg while they moved closely together.

 

The night seemed to pass in a blur and only when the first firework howled its way into the night, detonating into green fire, did they pull back, startled at the sudden sound.

 

It had been Annatar who had once long ago brought them fireworks. He had admitted, in a moment of unusual humility, that it had not been his invention and instead many Maiar enjoyed the sparkling, colourful lights though none more than the Maiar of Varda. It appeared they likened the sparkling lights to their Star-Queen. Or perhaps they just liked shiny things.

 

Celebrimbor could not deny that the colourful explosions looked stunning as they painted the night sky.

 

Annatar had brought the knowledge to Celebrimbor's artists to present the elf with a surprise for one of his begetting days. And what a day, or rather night, it had been. Though the Maia had not shown much interest in the finished work once they had.

 

Only in the praise he had craved and not so subtly demanded. It had been a simpler time, where Annatar had been much more forthright in his intentions and opinions. Also in his interest to bed Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor could not deny however that it hadn't been effective. The golden rings around their fingers where proof of that.

 

When the fireworks went off on this night, with Annatar standing next to Celebrimbor, holding their egg, it was not much different. The Maia had eyes for their child, for his husband and little else. Celebrimbor would have felt flattered to the point of being flustered, had he not been busy enjoying the sparkles, feeling giddy like a child. His hand rested around Annatar's hip and he pulled the Maia closer to press a kiss to his cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

Though day had not yet broken, the night was already passing when the two made their way back, the egg still shaking and trembling, “My dear, not so much,” Annatar said when the egg wiggled in his grip.

 

“What is it? Hiccups again? I told you to not swing it around so much.” Celebrimbor asked and extended his hand to help Annatar over the creek in their path.  


Annatar rolled his eyes and smiled, “Yes, yes. You told me so.”

 

The clearing opened up in front of them as if in greeting. But the longhouse was not the only thing meeting them.

 

Under a tree, sprawled out and in varying stages of drunk or asleep, lay the household of Celebrimbor and Annatar. They had celebrated like everyone else, though perhaps they had a few more reasons to unwind. Empty bottles and plates and a tipped over keg lay strewn about in a wide arc.

 

“And of course they are absolutely hammered...” Annatar whispered amused as they picked their way through drunken elves.  


“Hm,” Celebrimbor said, grabbed one of the discarded cloaks and threw it over one of the servants until the boy was tucked in. There was a quiet, snorted murmur in the way of acknowledgement. “You gave them permission,” he reminded and plucked an empty wine bottle out of the limp grasp of one of the stable boys.  


Annatar had pulled one of the maids out of a tree and rested her head against one of the roots where she rolled over once and was out cold once more.“Aye. They deserved a reward after such hard work, don't you think? Especially after having to put up with your--” Annatar went silent and perked his ear. Golden eyes focused to thin slits for but an instant before relaxing once more.

 

“What? What's wrong, dear?” Celebrimbor asked and perked his own ears to hear what the Maia had sensed.

 

Annatar raised his head, golden eyes searching Celebrimbor, then, he looked upon the egg which he had rested against his leg when he had plucked the elleth from her tree. When the elf met his gaze, the Maia grasped the egg and held it to his chest. “The egg is hatching.”

 

And just like that, it had begun.

 


	8. Shirred Egg

It was an accumulation of things Celebrimbor had dearly hoped would _not_ happen. The servants where all out cold. They where away from the safe fortifications of home. He had been caught off guard and was woefully unprepared. All in all, it was not the best set of circumstances.

 

_Hatching_ had begun and Celebrimbor did not know what to do.

 

Luckily Annatar was there. His Maia at least _pretended_ he knew any better. Water had been prepared, towels fetched and the egg was propped up on a pile of pillows on the wooden desk in front of Celebrimbor. The elf licked his lips and felt a drop of sweat trickle down his neck.

 

He shuffled around, unsure if he should follow around behind Annatar like a lost duckling or stand rooted and useless in place. The choice, though both would lead to an equal outcome, was a hard one.

 

Annatar hummed to himself, though it was not like the usual melodic serenity and instead more of a long, ceaseless tone that would neither fall nor rise in pitch. He had started to pace around the table, his robes thrown off and sleeves bound back so his porcelain pale arms where free.

 

The egg, or rather the child inside the egg, seemed undeterred by anything going on outside their now finally too small shell. Tiny little hammer blows steadily worked away inside as both Elf and Maia waited.

 

Little bursts of energy would course through Celebrimbor, making him feel as if he could raze a mountain to rubble and leaving him feeling shaking and weak a moment later. He was also slightly nauseous though some of it could be blamed on the wine.

 

Annatar, still pacing, looked at Celebrimbor. “It seems you got your wish after all, dearest.”

 

Celebrimbor groaned, “I know...I do feel like an idiot now.”  
  


The Maia stood for a moment, only to resume his frantic fussing, though he did pass Celebrimbor to press a kiss to his cheek, “It is not as if you had anything to do with it. It could have been the fireworks, maybe it was simply time. Whatever it is, we need to remain calm and observe, in case something goes wrong. Not that I am implying that it will, you know. But we must remain vigilant and I am _fully_ aware that I am rambling.”

 

Celebrimbor smiled though it strained under the constant, silent thumbing. He wondered if the child was alright. The fact that the noises continued at a steady pace was a good sign, where they not? “I don't suppose we could simply open it ourselves?”

 

The Maia shook his head, “There is no rushing this, I am afraid.”

 

Swallowing dryly, the motion enough to make him feel faint, Celebrimbor brought a hand to his temple as if to keep the light-headedness at bay.

 

Another tapping crack, as if someone was rapping their knuckles against a door to knock, albeit far, far more quietly. Or at least more muffled. Far more... meaningful. And far, far more frightening. This time something seemed to give way for the crack was a splintery one.

 

“Courage, Tyelpe,” Annatar said quietly and very nearly reverently behind him as Celebrimbor felt hands on his back, encouraging him to step forward, “I need you to stay with me.”

 

And with a steadying breath, unflinching as the first tiny little fissure destroyed the usually so pristine, polished surface of their egg, he did just that.

 

Annatar's fingers found his own, weaving together as they rested their heads on the other's.

 

* * *

 

 

Movement was becoming visible as more and more of the shell began crumbling away in reddish chippings dropping onto the pillow. A grunting groan, high and squeaky, almost send Celebrimbor running but he held back.

 

Sunlight had begun to stick its fingers through the half-drawn curtains, the first rays to greet them. The elves outside would likely not waken by it.

 

There was another crack and suddenly the very top came loose. A tiny head poked out, smeared and sticky with the very last of the yolk that had fed the child not long ago. The child gave a tiny gasp and the egg toppled over. Only then did Annatar hurry forth to peel the rest of the shell off. “There we are, see, that wasn't so bad. You are doing wonderful my darling,” the Maia praised between making soothing sounds.

 

The child was so terribly grubby, it was hard to peel them free, yet when the baby flailed around one last time, it was done.

 

For a moment, there seemed to be utter silence. Then, Celebrimbor, who stood behind Annatar, gave a choking, muffled gasp.

 

“Tyelpe, dear, I need you to stop crying and help me,” Annatar said and pulled a blubbering Celebrimbor closer. The elf had nearly completely dissolved at the sight of the now free child laying curled on the pillows.

 

The elf wiped his eyes and grabbed the towel and water bowl which had cooled a little by now. Celebrimbor took on cleaning the child while Annatar excused himself and vanished outside. Celebrimbor could hear him calm himself, the Maia had after all been just as stressed as the Elf.

 

The sticky residue came of in already drying pieces and when the child was reasonably clean, he could not help but kiss the damp head, the fat little belly, before turning his head to not dirty the child again with salty tears running down his cheeks again. He wiped his own face with his sleeve; Something he had not done since he had been a young boy and would have send Annatar screaming for the hills should he have ever witnessed it. The Maia, tired as well, had no more theatrics to give. Instead Annatar wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor and let loose a deep, relaxed sigh that spoke of much tension being released. “We have done it.” Annatar murmured, utterly drained, into Celebrimbor's back and rested his head against him.

 

“So we have. It is a boy, by the way,” Celebrimbor said weakly, deliriously blissful and overwhelmed when he wrapped the sleepy newborn into a fluffy blanket and turned around so Annatar could see.   
  


The Maia looked upon the child as if he had been presented with the greatest treasure imaginable. Perhaps he was. A moment of such profound, content happiness that it made Celebrimbor's chest ache all over again. “A boy, a son. Our son. Oh, my dear. My dears, I should say,” Annatar murmured and then he could not stop his own tears.

 

* * *

 

When the first servants stumbled into the longhouse, terribly hung-over and partied out, many wondered if they where perhaps still drunk or dreaming when presented with the sight of the newly hatched prince.

 

The shards of the eggshell where collected carefully and laid out to dry. The first keepsake of this momentous occasion. They where still beautiful to look at, glimmering silver. But they had another, far more precious thing to coo over.

 

With both Elf and Maia retreated into the bedroom, the remnants of a meal for Celebrimbor still sitting on the table, they beheld their son. They examined him critically, with the eyes of artists judging their craft, and found no flaw.

 

The child's head was covered in infant fuzz, the thick fluff every newborn elf possessed that would, once the child had grown a little, get replaced by actual hair. It grew in dark, silky tufts that begged to be petted and caressed. Celebrimbor did just that and marvelled at the softness of it.

 

The colour was his own, black as a raven's plumage. The tiny ears, still rolled and pressed against the child's skull held the elegant curve of Annatar's ears however. They had not seen the child's eyes yet, though there was no rush.

 

“Gods, he is perfect. No wonder,” Annatar sighed blissfully and chuckled when Celebrimbor brushed his cheek against the baby's fuzzy head. “Considering who his parents are, what else but a masterpiece could have come of it?”

 

Still a little squished and curled tight like a pill bug, the baby seemed as if he was not quite ready to try out this newfound freedom for wiggling limbs. “He looks rather grumpy, don't you think?” Celebrimbor asked softly and smiled a fond, tender smile.

 

“How would you feel after headbutting a wall for two hours? You can hardly blame him.”

  
Grinning, Celebrimbor kissed him, then the child who yawned once, rubbed a tiny fist over his squished face and fell still again, “I was not.”

 

“He worked so hard, no wonder he is tired.”

 

“As am I...” Celebrimbor said and pulled the blanket over them. Snuggled in like this, after a long night and half a day of worrying, with his two dearest treasures in the world, it was not long until Celebrimbor was asleep just like their tiny son.

 


	9. Raw Egg

The road was no place for a newborn. The shaking and rumbling and constant movement would not do and Annatar refused to expose their child to the elements so early.

 

And of course Celebrimbor relented. Such was his wont. And it was not as if he was _that_ eager to return when they could enjoy long walks outside the walled gardens of home.

 

It was treated as something of a holiday, or perhaps parental leave, something Celebrimbor had considered bringing up with his council after the festival. And why should he not? Was he not king, able to make his own decisions if he so pleased? He was, Annatar assured him and a rider was sent to deliver a note to the councillors to let them know there would be a delay and just what he would do if he came back to see the kingdom in flames. All in all, there where worse ways to welcome spring.

 

The baby was silent and sleepy for these first few days, utterly spent from carving his way out of his shell. Days spent fooling around at the lake and in the lush forest that seemed to invite them to stay forever, away from everything else. It was a nice fantasy, one that could be held up right up until they stepped into the cosy longhouse, where tea and an ocean of blankets where waiting for the three of them.

 

It did not take long until the child's ears straightened out and looked closer to Annatar's, albeit much, much smaller. It was not the only outward resemblance the baby shared with his Maia father. The same golden eyes stared in uncomprehending awe up at them, wide and impressionable.

 

Most of the grace would probably follow later, for now he was too busy gumming his fist while he experienced the world around him.

 

Spring also brought with it the opportunity to start a little garden, something Celebrimbor had never tried his hand on but he saw not why everything else should change around him while he stagnated. Buried to the elbows in mud and fertile soil, Celebrimbor smiled at the display not far from him. He wiped his forehead and smeared mud across his brow.

 

A blanket, sage green with little embroideries around the edge, depicting stags and bunnies in gold thread, lay Annatar, gracefully arched over the child as he pretended to be a great monster, much to the shrieking delight of the baby.

 

“Annatar,” Celebrimbor said from where he planted bluebells next to lungworts. “You will tire him out at this rate. Be more mindful,” he scolded.  
  
“Aye,” Annatar said and continued to pretend that he was eating the baby's toes. There was much ecstatic guffawing and their son flailed around with both fists and legs, kicking Annatar around the face. It had less impact than a thrown handful of wool and the Maia chuckled. “Aye,” he said once more “Why would I not take every moment I can get? This precious dear needs his toes eaten and raspberries blown on his stomach.” To emphasize his point, he did just that.  
  
“Because,” Celebrimbor said as he stood up and washed his hands in the nearby stream, joining the two of them, “How will I get my turn if he sleeps?”

 

Annatar shrugged, utterly unsympathetic to this dilemma, “It seems sacrifices need to be made, but do not worry yourself, I am sure you will find equal delights in your muddy flowerbed— _Aii_!”

 

He was cut off when Celebrimbor tickled the Maia's side and when Annatar made to flee, he snatched the child up and placed him safely in his lap. “ _Betrayal_!” Annatar cried out and huffed.

 

“Serves you right, you cheeky Maia.”

 

“Such insolence.”

 

Celebrimbor grinned, “Hush.”

 

Annatar snorted and turned on his side to regard the two of them. “We will need a name, I think.”  
  
“Any ideas?” Celebrimbor asked.  
  
Humming, the Maia folded his hands behind his head when he turned onto his back. “Too many... The problem is settling for one.”  
  
Nodding his agreement, Celebrimbor sighed, “Aye.”

 

Both remained silent for a while, regarding the child with loving gazes. The baby yawned and turned his dear little head before Annatar could not help himself and rested his cheek on Celebrimbor's knee to remain as close as he could. Golden locks fawned out behind him and caught the sunlight. The child, transfixed by the glimmering, shimmery display, outstretched tiny hands to catch fistfuls of it.

 

“He will gather new names as he grows, you know? I do not doubt for a moment that he will do many a great deed to warrant them.” Celebrimbor chuckled at the sight of Annatar's hair being chewed on.

 

“Unquestionable.”  
  
“I cannot decide. I only know which names not to pick.”

“Curufin?”  
  
Sneering, Celebrimbor huffed and rolled his eyes, “Yes. Among others.”  
  
“My resentful dear,” Annatar commented but seemed to be struck with an epiphany, “I may have one. The longer I think of it, _yes_ , the better it sounds.”  
  
“And that would be?”

 

Annatar smiled and tasted the name on his tongue, “Erthornil.”

 

The baby yawned and they watched his head droop, a nap seemed to be in order and Celebrimbor gently cradled him in his arms. “It does sound fitting,” Celebrimbor admitted and smiled. “Yes, a wonderful name.”

 

The newly minted Erthornil burbled in his sleep and drooled all over his father's sleeve. Annatar smiled fondly at the sight and kissed Celebrimbor, long and slow. “How lucky I am,” Annatar said as they sat close together, his head resting on Celebrimbor's shoulder. “To call you my husband, to have this little one be my child. What greater happiness could there be?”

 

Celebrimbor smiled and kissed Annatar, “Two children?”  
  
“Rogue!” Annatar laughed, just quietly enough to not wake their son.

 

Just a little over a year ago, Celebrimbor had never thought it possible to be in such a position. He would have been content in trudging in peaceful routine, never changing, never straying from what he knew. How lucky, how truly lucky he was to have Annatar at his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erthornil- 'Uniting Prince'


	10. Epilogue

Even the best of vacations had to end one day. So did this one and once they had gathered their servants, the few which had not been sent home weeks ago before, trailed behind the royal couple.

 

Celebrimbor, who held Erthornil safely snuggled in his cloak, allowed himself to straighten the blue bonnet that protected the baby's delicate head from the crisp spring air.

 

Annatar, humming to himself, smiled brightly when Erthornil murmured and cooed to himself. “Oh, my dear,” the Maia laughed, “The first time you will see the palace outside of your pretty little egg.” The shards of the shell where safely wrapped in cloth and stowed away in Annatar's saddlebags, the Maia already imagining the best way to display them.

 

The gates where already in sight, perhaps an hour of travel away.

 

It was only then that Annatar noticed. He felt the Grace, the presence of another Maia before any of the elves could perceive him.

 

Perhaps if he pretended not to notice, if he dimmed his own Grace, they could pass them without them ever even knowing they where here.

 

It was not meant to be, the Maia moved with them, directly towards them. Until even the elves noticed them. “Dear? Is that--?”  
  
Annatar sighed, “Yes...”

 

It became apparent that it was another one of Aulë's Maiar, for the air around them seemed to heat up until it resembled a particularly sweltering summer day. It was not lost on their entourage, for the guards seemed to grow nervous. It was a show of force, Annatar knew and felt himself grow annoyed. “You,” Annatar addressed the fire-haired- literally, the Maia's hair provided its own source of illumination- Maia and rolled his eyes when they sneered, “What is the purpose of your visit?”

 

Without bothering to greet or even acknowledge the elves around them, they spoke in that bland tone Annatar had never been able to listen to for too long, “Word has spread of the birth of another Maia. Our master Aulë has sent to announce his visit in a lustre.”

 

Perhaps for the first time, Annatar fumbled for words, though Celebrimbor seemed not to notice,“I fear this won't do. Perhaps another time?”

 

The Maia shook his head, “This is not up to discussion.” And with that he departed in a flash of heat that nearly sent the horses into a panicked frenzy. How inconsiderate.

 

Annatar nodded serenely, then he turned to Celebrimbor, “My dear, have you considered perhaps locating permanently to the woods? Preferably far away from civilisation?”

 

The baby, who had been startled by the sudden light, had begun to sniffle and whimper and Celebrimbor rushed to comfort him. “What?” He asked between nuzzling their son, “Why?”  
  
Watching the guards trying to get their horses to calm again, Annatar felt a headache impending and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Because _Aul_ _ë_ is going to visit, have you not been listening?”  
  
Celebrimbor, blessed be his naivete, shrugged, “Surely it cannot be that bad.”

 

Annatar whined low in his throat. “You have no idea, my darling...”

 

Erthornil, cheered up once more, giggled and snorted and Celebrimbor handed him over to Annatar who held him eagerly. “Well,” Annatar said and smiled crookedly, “Perhaps you are right and it won't be quite so bad.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everbody for reading. I hope I could deliver a satisfying take on such a weird idea. This story will continue in 'The Family Reunion of Annatar', though it make take a while. There is only so much egg words I can stomach.
> 
> If anyone wants to use this setting, the OC or anything from my fic, feel free to create your own eggy stories. Please tell me if you do, I would love to read them. Fluff is, after all, best when it is shared :)


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